The Halfling
by Maryland Rose
Summary: Can a Kindred be Immortal? Can an Immortal be Kindred? Petrakis shares both natures. It does not end well for him.


The halfling

"Got another letter from your bloodsucking friend." Ritchie told Duncan. "I wonder what he wants now."

"I do not like your calling Julian that."

"That's right, they call themselves Kindred. Isn't that calling political correctness too far?"

"They have a right to say how they prefer to be called."

"Still they are bloodsuckers. Leave behind a trail of drained bodies, and all that."

"That is exactly what they do not do. I have seen them feed, and what people lose to them is a few ounces, plus five minutes of their time, both of wich they can spare, and do not even notice it's missing."

"And you believe them? Just because they tell you that?"

"I have watched them, I told you. And I have the Quickening of one of them, so I know it is true."

"A Quickening? Do they have Quickenings, too?"

"This one did. He was Kindred, but he was Immortal, too. As Kindred, he lived a blameless life. It was only after he learned what else he was and took his first Quickening that he became a killer. I had to take off his head." He sighed. "Just as I had to do with Michael."

Ritchie's expression was one of skepticism."Was that his story?"

"Petrakis was a Nosferatu. Nosferatu are physically deformed, and easily identified, so they are very secretive. They do not get involved in the clan wars, so they are more peaceful and civilized than the other clans, in spite of their appearance. Not all, of course. There are those who have a mean streak and act as executioners for the other clans. But you are more likely to find gentle souls among them than anywhere else among the Kindred. They are not likely to be as marked by violence the way that Julian is. Or the way I am."

"What do you mean by violence?"

Duncan sighed. Sometimes Ritchie did not want to see unpleasant truths. "Ritchie, do you realize that you and I are killers? How many have we killed, between you and I?"

"Never without justification."

"No, that is true. But justification or not, we know how to behead very efficiently."

"All right, so this guy was a vampire who gave you a buzz when you met him."

o

Julian was in a good mood, telling Duncan of his latest skirmish with Cameron, and how he had outflanked him.

"You should not underestimate him." Duncan said. "the man hates you with passion. He will stop at nothing to get at you. He will even cut his own throat if he thought he could destroy you that way."

"I know that he hates me. That is why I can play around him. He is smart, but once his obsession kicks in, he can see only one thing. As long as he keeps me on his sights, he will not notice all these other things that I have put in place."

"He is very dangerous. He may get you yet."

"Not before I have done what I set out to do."

"As we say among our kind, watch your head."

Julian replied something, but Duncan did not pay attention. There was a buzz in his head, heralding the arrival of another Immortal.

"I do not understand it." he said.

"What is it?"

"I am the only non-Kindred here, am I not?"

"Yes."

"There is an Immortal behind that door."

"It cannot be.

" The door opened and a Nosferatu came in, carrying a book.

"Petrakis" Julian smiled at him "Do you mean that you are done?"

Duncan stared at the Nosferatu. It could not be, not him. But the signs was there. There was a Quickening in the Nosferatu's head. A Quickening that could be released by the stroke of the sword.

"Do you know what you are?" Duncan blurted out.

Petrakis looked at him puzzled, as did Julian, surprised at Duncan's lack of manners.

"Don't you feel it too, in your head?" Duncan put his hand to his temples "Ever since you came close to me? It cannot be, but it is there."

Julian stared at Duncan, then at Petrakis.

"I have had this sensation in my head, yes. How do you know of it?"

"That is how Immortals recognize each other."

"That is impossible." Julian said. "He cannot be Immortal. He is Kindred."

"I do not know if it is possible. I know that he feels Immortal."

"You mean that I am a Gladiator?" Petrakis was shocked. "But I have never...I have been Kindred all this time. I have lived as Kindred. I do not even have a sword."

"How have you lived?"

"Down in caves and tunnels, away from human eyes. I came out only at night, to feed on those who slept."

"The way many Nosferatu live. They are secretive. And many have reason to fear and avoid the human world." Julian said, and Duncan knew what he meant.

There were no unwilling embraces among the Nosferatu. All that had come to them had done so voluntarily. Since the Nosferatu were physically deformed and the other clans looked down on them, only a human in desperate straits would choose to become one of them. That so many had chosen attested to their tragic stories. He did not know why Petrakis had chosen to be Nosferatu, only that there had been a lot of pain behind it.

"If you have not left the underworld, then you may not have come in contact with other Immortals, and thus did not know."

o

"So this guy was a Nosferatu, bald head and rat teeth, and all that, and still felt like one of us?" Ritchie said. 'How could that be?"

"To embrace somebody he or she has to be taken to the point of death and then brought back to life with a little of the blood of the sire. That was done to Petrakis, who was a potential Immortal. When he was taken to the point of death the Immortal part of him kicked in, but while it was still working to revive him, he received the blood of his sire, so the Kindred part began to work at the same time. He came back as Kindred, but the Quickening was also in him. I do not think that he would be the only one that has both natures, but he is the only one I met."

"And what was his story."

"Very sad. He was a foundling, and was raised in a nighmare orphanage, then rented out as child labor. For a long time all he knew was abuse and hunger. He managed to grow to adulthood, but it did not go better for him. He was poor, at the bottom of the pecking order, and thus easily abused by more fortunate people. Yet he had an appreciation for beauty. He had what he called his treasure of dried flowers, bird feathers, pebbles, bits of ribbon, anything that looked pretty. They laughed at him for that, they called him a magpie. Then a Nosferatu came looking for blood, but stayed for more. That Nosferatu's story was similar to Petrakis, so they struck out a friendship. He would wake up Petrakis in the middle of the night to talk with him, then let him get back to sleep. They were friends, even thought in the morning Petrakis thought it was all a dream. That went on for a couple of months, until Petrakis' landlady died, and the new owner evicted him. When the Nosferatu came he found Petrakis crying, asking where would he go now."

"So the Nosferatu took him in."

o

"Yes. That very night." "Has Petrakis ever killed anyone?" - Duncan asked after Julian had told him Petrakis' life story as a human, as well as the many years that he had spent as Kindred painting miniatures of landscapes, flowers, and birds, which Julian arranged to have published through intermediaries. Julian now asked Duncan to teach Petrakis to use a sword, for self-defense.

"Of course not." Julian was almost offended by Duncan's question. "You know that he does not need to."

"You are sure of that? Not even in anger? Never had a fight with a fellow Kindred? Not even in self-defense?"

"I am sure of that."

Duncan paced. He felt a terrible responsibility had been given to him. And he did not know if he would do it right. "Then you should move him to Holy Ground as soon as possible. Unless you are ready to have him become a killer, with my instructions."

"Duncan..." "If you want to protect him, you will move him to Holy Ground right now. I do not want to teach him to live by the sword. You know him. Can he handle the life I live?"

"You seem to be doing fine."

Why couldn't Julian see it? Immortals were killers, all of them, unless they were in Holy Ground. Julian could choose or not to become a killer. He could choose to take a gun and become an enforcer for Archon. He could choose to lay down his gun and stop being a killer. Duncan did not have that choice. He could not choose to stop beheading anymore that Julian could choose to stop drinking blood.

Petrakis could not handle living like that. He had seen it already in the man's eyes. He had never killed in his life, and Duncan should not be the one to teach him how.

"Julian, I grew up a warrior. In those times you went against your enemies in battle and were praised by it. I had killed several times before I became what I am. No one looked on me with horror for it. On the contrary. I was a brave warrior who cut down our enemies sword in hand. For me, to become Immortal, a hunter of heads, was more of the same. What is in Petrakis background that makes you think that he would take well to beheading living people?"

"Duncan, if we did nothing, how safe could he be? He has lived in the tunnels a long time, since he became Kindred. But now he goes out more and more. He is not seen, but that makes no difference to one of your kind, does it?"

"He cannot stay hidden forever." Duncan agreed reluctantly "Sooner or later someone will sense his Quickening. And there are predators who hunt the Quickenings of the new and untrained. Some are addicted to the pleasure of the Quickening, and want easy pickings."

"Are there many Immortals who do that?"

"Too many." Duncan looked around the room, trying to put it in a way that Julian would understand. "Julian, my world is not like yours. We have no laws, no authority. All we have is our swords. Yes, we have many predators among our kind. We have predators who specialize in the Quickenings of the new and untrained. They hunt them for pleasure. Any Kindred who was that predatory you would have taken out long ago. You have taken them out for much less. But you have the means. You have the law on your side, and you can enforce it. You can pass judgement, and put it to a vote. We have no Law. We do as we please, as long as we keep the rules of the game: No fighting on Holy Ground, fight in individual combat, take the loser's head and receive the Quickening, don't betray our presence to humans. The only thing that restrains your behavior is your conscience. If you are Kalas, or Xavier St Cloud, then it is very bad luck for the people who meet you. If I can, I take predators out. But that is my individual decision. When you order someone killed you have the authority. It is a legal execution. With me, I am the judge, jury, and executioner. I take it all on myself. And it has less to do with right or wrong than with the fact that I am a better swordsman. Might makes right in my world. Are you ready to have Petrakis live in it? Or die for it?"

"If your conscience is the only check in your behavior, then that makes you the more praiseworthy."

"Would the people killed by Kalas take comfort in knowing that I am such an upstandig fellow? Julian, this is not about me. I feel no self-hatred, I am comfortable with what I am. It is just that I have no illusions about my world. And I know that some people cannot take it. From what you tell me, I do not think that Petrakis could. His only safety now is Holy Ground."

"Except that he would have to leave Holy Ground to feed. He needs to be among a certain number of humans. And he should be able to hide, because he is too easily identified."

"It can be arranged. You know it can be. There are libraries and research institutions which are part of monasteries. He would like it there. He might even do the work he loves there and not have to hide it anymore."

"Only for a few years. Then the other monks would start counting how many years he has been with them, and does not seem to age any."

"Then there can be other arrangements."

o

"So what did he decide?"

"We started looking for any place that could be Holy Ground. He wondered if there would be something in Chinatown. There are temples there, and Chinatown is teeming with people. With his bald head, Petrakis might pass for a monk. I gave in to Julian entreaties and, in spite of my misgivings, I began teaching Petrakis how to use a sword. He was not a good pupil. His heart was not in it. He was worried about leaving his community and his friends. That was the only home he had known and he felt that he was being cast out. I told him that his friends would come to visit him. I told him about Oriental art, and how it was different from the art that he worked on. I said that he would learn new skills there, that he would meet new people, and perhaps meet someone that he might want to embrace."

o

"Our life is not for everyone." Petrakis said "It has been good to me. But that would not be true of just any other. They would have to be at the end of their rope, with nowhere else to go. They would have nothing to look forward to, so that becoming a deformed creature that lives on human blood would look good by comparison."

"There are always people like that."

Petrakis laid down his sword and sat on the floor. The workout that Duncan had put him through showed in his face. He probably never had to undertake so much activity at one time

. "Yes. Unfortunately. I still meet them. Children are still abused by the adults that are supposed to care for them. The poor and the weak are still preyed upon. There are winners and there are losers, and losers can suffer greatly. I have done them small kindnesses when I could. To them I could offer a refuge and a second chance. But too many of them think of revenge against the whole world. If I took any of them in, I might be responsible for unleashing a monster. In spite of the hurts humans gave me when I was one of them I cannot hate them. It is thanks to their blood that I live, and I would not repay them with terror. And there are many kind-hearted among them. Many who would have helped me when I suffered if they had known of it. I cannot condemn all for the actions of some of them."

Duncan sat down next to him. If this was Ritchie, or any student that he expected to live by the sword, he would demand he get up and go to the next exercise. But Petrakis' case was different. He did not need to be that good a swordsman. He did not want Petrakis to be a good swordsman. He liked Petrakis too much, and it felt like a violation of Petrakis' soul to teach him how to be an Immortal.

"You are a fair-minded man. Not many would be as forgiving as you are."

"I no longer suffer as I used to. I have been happy among the Nosferatu. I have friends, I have work that I love. It is easy to forgive past hurts when you are happy."

o

"He got passably good with the sword, but his heart was not in it. He did not look forward to collecting heads. I was glad of that. I did not like the idea of making a killer out of him. But Julian insisted that he learned it for self- protection and I had agreed to let him defend himself against any predator looking for easy pickings. The idea, Julian said, was to let him defend himself long enough until other Kindred could come to his aid. When I protested about that he said that Kindred were not bound by our rules, and they could behead as many Immortals as they wanted, in any way they wanted, as long as it was justified. There was nothing that said that a Kindred could not come to the aid of another. So I trained Petrakis, while Julian looked for a suitable temple. What we did not know is that we were running out of time. Davros has come to San Francisco, hunting for the Quickenings of the untrained, and he sensed Petrakis. He followed him as he went down the tunnels."

"Davros? I heard of him."

"What did you hear?"

"That was after I had left you. Some Immortal warned me that Davros might want my Quickening, since he liked to take on the inexperienced. I told her to pass the word along that you were my teacher, and whose Quickening I had just taken, also that I had beaten Annie, and spared her. Evidently Davros got the message, because he never challenged me."

"Yes, you were too dangerous for him. But Petrakis was easy pickings. Or would have been if he had not been Nosferatu and had strenght and speed that Davros did not count on."

o

Duncan raced back to Petrakis. He should not have left him alone, practicing with the sword. He had sensed the other Quickening, and it moved fast towards Petrakis. He had to get there before the newcomer challenged Petrakis. Once the challenge was made only Petrakis could fight, and Duncan would have to watch his pupil have his head struck off. He was too late. Petrakis held his sword and faced the newcomer.

"Why should I fight you?" he asked. "I have no reason to. I have never harmed you."

"Fight me, or I will take your head right now. I want your Quickening, pup. You look strange, I wonder what your Quickening will feel like."

Duncan came in. "I am Duncan McLeod of the clan McLeod."

"And you know the rules, as well as I do. I challenged him. You must stay out of it."

Duncan glared, but did not answer. The rules bound him. He would see Petrakis' head fall. And he would take the newcomer's afterwards.

"What is your name?" he asked. "I am Davros. And I have challenged this pup properly."

Duncan's hand clutched the hilt of his sword. Davros was a Quickening addict. The mad light in his eyes, the greed for Petrakis's Quickening would not allow him to see that Duncan would challenge him after he had received that Quickening. Like all addicts, he lived for the next fix.

Their swords clashed. Duncan closed his eyes. He did not want to see Petrakis' head fall. The sounds continued for a few minute, steel against steel. Even half trained, Petrakis's natural speed and strength was helping him in this fight.

Petrakis did scream a couple of times, bewildered. Why did this stranger want to kill him? What harm had Petrakis ever done him? Then there was the soft sound of steel cutting flesh, and then nothing. Reluctantly Duncan opened his eyes. Petrakis stood, looking with surprise at the body under him. Davros head had rolled in the corner. Duncan blinked. Petrakis, lousy swordsman that the was, had killed Davros.

Then the Quickening came. Petrakis screamed for the pain to stop as Davros' released energies poured into him. For him the Quickening meant pain, with no pleasure in it. His enhanced Nosferatu senses were too sensitive for the light and power, and he tried to shield himself from them. But the Quickening had to go to him, no matter how he fought it.

Then it was over. Petrakis was on his knees, shivering. He looked away from Davros' corpse, evidently sickened by it.

"Why would he want to kill me?" He asked Duncan. "It makes no sense, this killing."

"No, it doesn't." Duncan agreed.

"What happened to me? I feel so...so strange."

"We will make sure it does not happen again."

Petrakis looked at the headless body. "I...I killed him." There was fear and disgust in his face. If he had been human, he would have been sick, Duncan thought. "I did not mean to. I was trying to stop him..."

"That was the only way he could be stopped." Duncan laid a comforting hand on Petrakis' shoulder."He sought his own death, and it found him. You are not to blame for this."

o

"So Petrakis got his first Quickening."

"Yes, and he was sick just thinking about it. He had never before killed in his life. That he had killed Davros in self-defense made no difference to him. All he could see was the severed head jumping in the air, then landing with a thump at his feet. His distress was so genuine that Julian was convinced not to waste any more time and place him on Holy Ground as soon as possible.

It was a temple in Chinatown, where Julian knew a Shaolin priest with whom he traded favors. Petrakis was very glad to go, when he was told that he would never be challenged in the temple, and thus could leave his sword behind. He let me have it, to do as I wished with it."

Duncan rose and retrieved a reproduction sixteen century sword. "It is not a valuable antique. Not even a decent fightting sword. I did not want to give him a good one. For the kind of fighter that Petrakis was, the kind I meant him to be, this was more than adequate." he sighed. "I should have given him a paper sword instead. Much suffering would have been avoided."

"So what happened next?" "

Six month later I got an urgent call from Julian. Something had gone horribly wrong with Petrakis, and they needed my help. Maybe I could help Petrakis. Or maybe I could take his Quickening... Julian did not explain, just asked me to be there as soon as I could." "

And what did you find when you got there?"

o

"Julian was talking with the Shaolin priest that had helped place Petrakis, and who had subdued him and contacted Julian when he had gone on a rampage. I was present at that meeting."

The Shaolin priest bowed to Julian, who bowed back to him.

"We appreciate your help, Caine, as we appreciate your coming to us. You have a right to be angry. These are your people that Petrakis slaughtered."

"It was not him who did those foul deeds." the priest said. "there is an evil spirit that has taken possession of his body. His soul is innocent of these crimes."

"Have you determined that it is so?" Julian asked.

"Yes, it is a most unusual spirit, one I have not encountered before."

"Can he be exorcised?" There was a plea in Julian's words. He liked Petrakis, and if he was being possessed and in need of an exorcism, there might be a way to avoid executing him.

"I tried, but failed. It is beyond my powers."

"Could it be done?" "I do not know." Julian bowed his head. "His soul in in great pain. These deeds weight it with horror and guilt. He suffers greatly for it, and the pain does not stop...Sometimes the only healer for this pain is death."

That was not what Julian wanted to hear, but he accepted it. "I thank you again, Caine, for your help and your concern. I know that money is a poor substitute for their loss, but if I can help the families of those who died, please let me know."

Caine bowed again, saying his thanks for the offer, and left.

"How much does he know about you?" Duncan asked, with curiosity.

"Caine? Probably more than he lets on. I do not ask, and he does not volunteer. We have helped each other over the years. He is an honorable man, and if he wanted to move against us, he would have done so already. He judges men by their hearts, not by apperances, he told me once."

"What happened, exactly?"

"Petrakis killed ten people. He beheaded them with his fingernails, one by one, and kept shaking their heads, as if looking for something."

o

"He went on a rampage? Just like that?"

"Yes, I suspected what might have happened, but I wanted confirmation. Not that it might have made any difference to Petrakis at this point. What he was done was a capital offense among the Kindred, and it was only Julian's concern that had delayed his execution."

o

Daedalus, the Primogen, or local leader, of the Nosferatu took Duncan to the cell where Petrakis was held. Beams of light were used to confine him, since little else might be strong enough to restrain him.

"Is there any hope?" Daedalus asked. "He was always kind and gentle. This is not him."

"It is not. But it might be part of him." He remembered Michael not so long ago. Michael was not a killer, and the deaths that Quentin caused pained him terribly. But Quentin was a part of him. And the only way that Quentin could be stopped was to cut off Michael's head. He hoped that Michael had found peace wherever he was now.

Petrakis was kneeling next to the farthest wall, his face buried against the stone.

"Petrakis," Daedalus said. "Duncan McLeod is here to see you." Petrakis shook his head.

"I cannot see him. I am too ashamed. Why can't let me die as I deserve, Daedalus?"

Duncan did not know what to answer to Petrakis' evident misery. "If you must die, then I must be the one to collect your Quickening. That is our way."

Petrakis lifted his head. "You will kill me, then?"

"If that is the only answer."

"It is. I can feel this evil thing within me, asking for heads. I must go and cut off more heads. That is all that it wants."

"Petrakis, talk to me." Duncan said. "I must know what happened and why."

"And after I tell you, will you kill me? I can't go on living like this, remembering how these people died, people who had never done me any harm."

"After you tell me, I will know what is to be done."

o

"And what did he tell you?" Ritchie asked. "Enough so that my suspicions were confirmed."

"What had happened?"

"It was a Dark Quickening. A peculiar version of it. It had to do with what Petrakis was, and what Davros was."

"What was that?"..

"They were both hunters. Petrakis hunted for blood, and Davros for Quickenings. It did not matter that Petrakis' hunts were never fatal to his prey, that he was gentle and considerate with them (not to mention the times when he would actually slip some money in their pockets if he though they could use it). He hunted them and had to use the same skills that Davros used. He had to identify suitable prey, stalk it, isolate it, and approach it. Same as Davros did with his. The only difference was what they did once they were within striking distance. After the Quickening, Davros' memories and skills were available to Petrakis. And he tapped them, unconsciously. Each time he looked for blood, and scanned around to see who could provide it, he reached into Davros' store of knowledge as to how best to do it. He did not realize it, it just came naturally to him. He kept calling on the knowledge and memories of that Quickening every day. And one day he dredged up more. One day he dredged up Davros' hunger for Quickenings. Davros was a true addict. His hunger was an overwhelming force that Petrakis did not know how to contain. When he approached his prey that evening he was just going to get some blood, as always, but Davros took over. Davros made him cut the man's head and shake it, to force the Quickening out. Of course, there was no Quickening to be had. So Davros went looking for more. He had to get it, you see, once he had taken over Petrakis. And he kept cutting heads, hoping for that Quickening that he knew was there."

o

Julian dropped his head in his hands.

"God, what have we done?" he said after Duncan had explained the situation to him.

Duncan did not answer. He knew what he had done. He should have never taught Petrakis how to use the sword.

"Is there any way to reverse it?" Daedalus asked. Duncan shook his head.

"None that I know."

"You shook off a Dark Quickening once." Daedalus reminded him.

"Yes, I did. But I had resources that Petrakis does not have. He can push Davros back, he is now in control of himself. But he cannot hunt for blood ever again, and even so there are no guarantees."

Julian stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think what to do, mourning a friend that he had cherished for long. He was aware that there was only one choice left.

"Petrakis is in pain." Duncan said. "As Caine said, sometimes death is the only healer."

"He is right." Julian nodded reluctantly. "You will have to take Petrakis' Quickening, Duncan. I see no other way."

"I will do it. But do talk to him before I do. Tell him that he is not to blame for what has happened. He is not, you know. Tell him that he is still one of you, that no one loves him less for it. Do not cast him out of the only home that he has ever known. Do not let him die thinking that he is this foul killer. He is an innocent victim, and he must know it."

o

"So you took his head."

Duncan nodded, and continued his story, his voice thick with emotion.

"I remember it as if it was yesterday. When we came in Petrakis was kneeling in his cell, his head resting on the lap of a woman who was a good friend. She stroked his head and spoke to him. When he saw us he lifted his head, and nodded to us. Evidently they had talked to him and reassured him that they did not blame him for the acts committed by Davros. There was fear in him, but he was not despondent. His friends had surrounded him with love and he was drawing strength from it. He would have to come out with us. Beheading is messy, and we wanted it done someplace that could be cleaned.

'When we told him that, he rose and extended his hands for binding. He was afraid, but willing. Daedalus shook his head. His hands would not be bound. They would not treat him as a criminal. This would not be an execution, but one last service done to a friend with a disease whose only cure was death. Daedalus put his arm around Petrakis' shoulders and let him rest his head on Daedalus's shoulder. He took Petrakis' hand and squeezed it. The Nosferatu woman got up, with one silent tear of blood running down her cheek. She shook her head, she would not see Petrakis' head struck off his body.

"Julian nodded at that. If he could, he would not see it either. But Petrakis would have his death vigil, and Daedalus had asked Julian to do it, for Daedalus was in too much pain to do it right. Julian took Petrakis' other hand in both of his.

"Petrakis looked at me and asked me to forgive him for having failed me as a student. I wanted to scream that the fault was mine, that I was the one who had failed him, but that would not have helped him. I told him that he had not failed me, that it was something too strong for him to fight. I told him that I was proud of him.

" We went down the corridor, Daedalus and Julian holding Petrakis, I behind them. We did not want to call it an execution, but that was what it looked like, Daedalus was the guard, restraining Petrakis in a loving hold, Julian was the priest, giving comfort to the dying, and I the executioner. Julian asked Petrakis is there was anything he wanted done, and promised he would be buried among his friends, that he would remain in death in the only home he had ever known. We reached the end of the corridor and I hung behind, to take my sword out.

" They made Petrakis kneel down. Daedalus stepped back and looked at me. He would give me signal for the stroke. Julian held on to Petrakis' hand and locked eyes with him. He began to talk, as he stepped back, still holding the hand, to give me room to swing the sword. He spoke of fragrant meadows, of flowers and birds, of all beautiful things that Petrakis loved. Petrakis looked at Julian, his attention caught in the words, so that he did not see me stand behind him. Julian talked about Petrakis' sire, who had died years ago, and was now ready to welcome him, and give him again a home. He asked Petrakis to see the river that separated him from the land of the dead, and to see the white sail of the boat that had come to take him across. Petrakis followed the words, nodding as Julian spoke. I was forgotten, his fear was forgotten. Julian wove a spell of words that took the pain and ugliness away.

"Then Daedalus gestured to me, and I swung the sword. Petrakis head fell, and I shivered. I had never taken the head of someone who was helpless before. Daedalus and Julian took the body and laid it down carefully. I wanted to help them, but I knew that my part was not done. I had a Quickening to receive. It came. All that Petrakis was came to me. His delight in beauty, his joy in frienship, his past pains, his innocence, the kindess he extended to all unthinkingly, all of it.

" And I got Davros' Quickening, and I screamed in pain knowing how that foulness had hurt Petrakis. I began to weep for Petrakis' ravished innocence. It had been a foul rape, what had happened to him, and I knew that I had been a part of it. There were other Quickenings, of those that Davros had taken before, neither particularly good nor particularly evil, just confused and trying to find their way. None of them could have helped Petrakis, even if he had known how to call on them. I received them all, and I screamed in pain and outrage. When I came to, Julian and Daedalus had wrapped the body, and were taking it back for burial. There were tears in their eyes, as there were in mine. There should have been a better way, Julian said, but he did not know what it could have been. I knew what it was, but would not say it aloud."

Ritchie was silent, digesting Mac's words.

"What would have been the better way?" He finally asked.

"For me to say nothing. To let Petrakis remain ignorant. To let Davros take his head and spare him the horror of harboring that foul Quickening. He would have died much happier, and I would have spared Julian and Daedalus the pain of having to lead a good friend to his death."

"But that is not what we are supposed to do."

"No, but what I should have done. Let Petrakis remain untouched by our world. It is a nasty world that you and I live in, Ritchie. We can handle it, and we can find joy and purpose in it, but it is not for everyone. Certainly not for Petrakis. For many years he lived as Kindred, taking the blood he needed without harm to anyone. Then I had to make him an Immortal out of him, teach him how to be a killer. And that is what he became. I will never forgive myself for it."

"Mac, you did your best by him. You thought you were helping him."

"Yes, that was what Julian said. But I know better." He took a small delicate drawing out of the portfolio. "Petrakis did this. Julian let me have it afterwards. He said that Petrakis wanted me to have it, to thank me for his kindness to him."

Ritchie looked at it. "It is beautiful, Mac. It is so tiny, so delicate, and yet every detail is there."

"Yes, it is." Tears flowed from Duncan's eyes. "I have his Quickening in me, his memories, his hopes and dreams, and I know the dreadful pain he suffered because of me. I gave him no kindness, just unendurable pain." He wiped his tears and put the drawing away. "So Ritchie, please don't call my friends bloodsuckers. Do it for me, all right?"

"All right, Mac."

Duncan smiled, acknowledging Ritchie's earnest promise. One day Ritchie would understand... He looked at the miniature again and wiped his eyes. At least Petrakis was free of his pain now, and that was all that mattered.

"Even after four hundred years, I can still be a fool."


End file.
